


The Bach Street Boys

by TsarryNight (ClemonticGear)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Marching Band, Gen, Keith & Lance (Voltron) Friendship, Keith plays percussion, Lance plays saxophone, Mentions of matt, Shiro plays horn in F, and he's really good at piano, because it's not a rock band or anything, because memes, it's just nerd band, mentions of Shiro, same goes for Matt, that's the closest tag I could find to my high school band au, the relationships in this fic can be read as either platonic or romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-03 17:02:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17288000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClemonticGear/pseuds/TsarryNight
Summary: The annual solo and ensemble contest was in a couple months, and Lance had a solo to learn.Lance's execution of his piece was in no way perfect, but Lance liked to think that he was doing alright.However, even if Lance was semi decent at his solo, his accompanist was doing downright terrible, but that was due to the fact that his accompanist didn't exist.When Lance needs an accompanist for the annual solo and ensemble contest, Keith is there to provide.





	The Bach Street Boys

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for [Oversound: A Musical Voltron Zine](https://oversoundvoltronzine.tumblr.com/post/181689195131/and-here-we-are-hello-everyone-im-haryuu) which I also moderated. This is a free zine in the form of a PDF. I highly recommend checking it out! There are so many other talented artists and writers that contributed.
> 
> s/o to Cassidy for being my beta and also putting up with my rambling :)

The sun had yet to rise and the school was quieter than ever. Lance made his way through the corridors from the pool and to the music wing. The smell of chlorine traveled with him as he kept on. The swim team’s morning practice had gotten out early, and it was time for a different round of practice.

The annual solo and ensemble contest was in a couple months, and Lance had a solo to learn. As the lead tenor saxophone player in the school’s jazz band, he was very comfortable with playing jazz. Lance was able to play anything from swing, to soul, to Latin. If it were up to him, Lance would have picked a jazz piece to perform and not some random classical piece, but Coran’s ideas hadn't lined up with Lance’s. He had placed one of Bach’s concertos in Lance’s hands, said something about versatility, and sent him on his way.

Lance's execution of his piece was in no way perfect, but Lance liked to think that he was doing alright. He wasn't great with the rhythms, but according to Coran, the piece was highly advanced, so he “had to be patient with himself while learning the piece.” Anyways, Lance knew that neither rhythms nor classical music were his strong suit, so he cut himself some slack.

However, even if Lance was semi decent at his solo, his accompanist was doing downright terrible, but that was due to the fact that his accompanist didn't exist. 

The accompanying part for the concerto was also at an extremely high level, and unless one of the old ladies down at the local church had started working on the piece a year prior, they were out of the running. Since nobody outside of the school was able to accompany him, the only contenders left were Lance's classmates.

A shoe in candidate was obviously Matt Holt. That guy was a piano playing legend. He was in the same jazz ensemble and the same concert band as Lance, and he blew everything he played out of the water. Matt was easily one of the best pianists the school had to offer. Unfortunately for Lance, Matt was already accompanying at least three people, and he had turned down at least three more. Although Matt was Lance’s ideal accompanist, he could accept that it wasn’t going to happen.

So, Lance was stuck. He had no idea who was going to accompany him, and until he could figure that out, all he could do was practice his solo on his own.

With exhaustion in his stride, Lance dragged himself into the music wing to set up his saxophone and practice his solo. As he approached his destination, he heard Matt playing the piano. The piece was sadder and more serious than what Matt usually played.

Lance sighed. Why was Matt so good? He set his things down in the hallway outside of the band room and pulled his instrument out of its storage locker. The music came to a finale as Lance put his instrument together. After his saxophone was safely fastened to his neck strap, Lance made his way into the band room. 

“Hey, Matt,” Lance called out, facing the wall as he scanned the folder slots for his music.

“Sorry?” A voice from across the room responded; it was familiar, but it definitely was not Matt’s.

Lance spun around in confusion. The piece that he heard was so advanced and well executed that Lance automatically assumed that it was Matt who had been playing it.

There, at the piano, sat Keith.

Keith and Lance were fairly familiar with each other. They were in the same grade, in all the same band ensembles, and they even had the same group of friends. Lance saw Keith as a friend, and they hung out during marching band and their lunch period, but they had never had a real conversation one on one before. But, Lance really needed an accompanist, and there was always a first time for everything.

Keith gazed back at Lance questioningly as the gears in Lance's head cranked away. He had never heard Keith play piano before. Whenever a piece in band called for piano, Matt played it. Matt was also a year older than Lance and Keith, which would be a tie breaker if Keith and Matt had equal playing abilities. He’d heard Keith play percussion, and he knew Keith was extraordinary at drumming and playing mallet instruments, so him being a God-send on piano made sense.

The look of confusion had begun to turn into a look of annoyance as Lance continued to stare. Lance came to the conclusion that Keith was a better accompanist than nobody.

“Hey Keith,” Lance started, a bit unsure sounding. “Are you accompanying anybody for the contest coming up? 

The irritation left Keith’s face and was replaced with his earlier look of confusion. “Just Shiro. Why?”

Well it was now or never. “I need an accompanist for my solo so I was thinking you could accompany me?”

“Yeah sure, give me the music. Go warm up and I'll be ready in ten.” Keith responded without hesitation, turning his attention back to the keys nonchalantly.

Lance was taken aback by how quickly Keith responded. He sifted through his sheet music for the piano part, handed it to Keith, told him the tempo, and made his way into a practice room to warm up. Lance never pegged Keith to be so lowkey. Maybe this was no big deal to him; maybe he accompanied others often.

Lance spent ten minutes warming up. He did breathing exercises, scales, the works. As Lance warmed up, he listened to what Keith was doing. He seemed to play passages sporadically; he'd play the same passage a few times, then move on and not go back.

After ten minutes, Lance peaked out of the practice room. “Are you ready to play?”

Keith shifted his focus from his sheet music to Lance. “Yeah, I’m finished. I can play most of the right hand. If you want to, you can grab your stuff and we can play together.”

Lance, for the second time, was surprised by Keith’s response. He grabbed his music and stand from the practice room dumbfoundedly and set up next to the piano. If he was to be completely honest, Lance was stupidly nervous; all previous confidence that he had regarding his solo was gone. Keith was able to learn a decent portion of his part in ten minutes. What would he think about Lance?

Lance tried to shake the insecurities surfacing; he couldn't let them get to him, or it'd affect his playing negatively. Lance was a firm believer in the saying “fake it ‘til you make it.”

Keith turned towards Lance. “What do you want to do to signify when you’re ready to begin? What Shiro does is count off, but on the last number, he takes a breath instead of saying the number and then we start.”

Lance mustered a smile. “Yeah, that sounds good. I can count to three and then breathe on four.”

“Sounds good with me,” Keith replied as he readied his hands above the piano keys.

Lance sighed, made sure his mouthpiece and reed were in the proper positions, and brought his saxophone into playing position.

“Alright,” Lance started with faux confidence, “one, two, three--” Lance took an exceedingly audible breath complete with a full upper body movement, and started to play.

To say it was a disaster would be putting it mildly. Lance and Keith didn't start at the right tempo with Keith too fast and Lance too slow. As Keith tried to slow down to Lance’s tempo, Lance panicked and sped up all while fumbling through every single phrase. They were never able to play in the same spot at the same tempo, and at about halfway through the song, Lance finally caved.

“Sorry,” Lance stumbled, “I can usually play it a little better and I'm not sure what I did with the tempo and-- well, I don’t know what happened.”

“It’s fine.” Keith told him, seemingly undisturbed by their failure. “It’s important to be patient when doing something new. This is our first time playing together. Do you think we should take the tempo slower?”

Lance nodded and Keith picked up a metronome and set it to a tempo significantly slower than the one they had previously taken. After the two agreed on that tempo, they set up at the beginning again.

Lance counted off at the right speed, and they were able to stay together. Lance slowly began to feel more confident. As his confidence grew, so did Lance’s playing abilities. He was content with how the solo was panning out. Despite this, about two thirds of the way through the song Keith stopped abruptly.

Keith drew his hands off of the keys and ran them through his hair, taking a deep breath. He muttered something about patience and focus to himself. Lance, who was highly confused, let Keith be.

After a few moments, Keith raised his head and met Lance's questioning gaze. “You started out alright,” he explained, “but you completely lost the song’s style. You started to swing the rhythms and your tone changed completely. Bach’s pieces aren’t supposed to be jazzy.”

Lance felt like he should have been offended by how blunt Keith was being, but on the contrary, Keith was right. When Lance got nervous while playing a song, he tended to switch to a style that aligned itself closely with jazz, and that’s not how Bach wrote his pieces. He’d probably be rolling in his grave if he had heard Lance’s rendition of his concerto.

Lance was at a loss, and as much as his gut instinct told him not to, he had to listen to Keith in order to improve.

Lance braced himself and swallowed his pride. “What do you suggest I do then?” he asked with the smallest amount of bite that he could muster.

It seemed to be the right thing to say because as soon as Lance finished his sentence, Keith gave him a pleased look. “Well, did you know that Shiro has a ton of tips to help with getting style down?” As soon as he mentioned Shiro, Keith became visibly more enthusiastic. “He says that it's always a good idea to listen to the song to figure out the style and techniques that should be used. If you look up your solo online, you'll probably find it.”

Keith paused for a beat, “You actually have a pretty good grasp on the notes and the tempo. You just need to work on playing the rhythms straightforward. I suggest playing them slower with a metronome on. That will help you even out the notes.” Keith paused again and looked down at his hands, smiling softly to himself. “I actually had the opposite problem. I couldn’t swing rhythms like you can; I could only play them straightforward.” He looked back up at Lance. “Shiro was actually the one who helped me fix it. It was very tedious and there was a lot of repetition, but I was able to do it in the end.” Keith’s stare met Lance’s gaze. “I believe that you can do it, too.”

Lance was slightly shocked at how inspirational Keith’s spiel was. He smiled back at Keith, then started back to the practice room with determination filling his veins. “It’s a good thing that you believe in me because trust me, I’m going to blow this solo out of the water.” He heard Keith chuckle behind him, and a new fire inside him was suddenly fueled. “We’re going to get a superior rating,” Lance continued, whipping around to face Keith again. “Watch us form the greatest team ever.”

The small smile on Keith’s face had transformed into a full out beam, as he laughed playfully at Lance’s declarations. “I wouldn't doubt you for a second.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on [Tumblr](http://tsarrynight.tumblr.com/) or on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/tsarrynight) (my twitter acc is really new; don't mind my low follower count...).


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